Plan B
by Damar
Summary: The Dark Knight may have finally found his match in the psychopathic assassin known as Bullseye, who may be the end of him and Gotham. DC/Marvel crossover, many character deaths.


**An result of a past fanworship of the character, not to be taken seriously. And to avoid lawsuit, I don't own DC or Marvel. **

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**New York**

**Fisk Tower**

A phone rang. Once. It sat on top of a large obsidian desk that was rather left out of the light, apart from one single dim light that did nothing more than cast a sinister shadow upon the person seated behind it. Twice. A gargantuan hand, an child would call it that of an ogre, reached out to the phone and picked it up before it ring thrice.

"Yes."

It was not a query to whoever was calling. It was a statement of an presence. That of Wilson Fisk. An legitimate businessman his lawyers called him in court. Lord and master of the New York criminal underworld and beyond he was called by the lowlifes on the street. A man most commonly known as the Kingpin.

"Hey Fatso, thought I'd give you a call!"

It was partially true. The Kingpin was a very large and enormous man. But less than 2 of it was fat. The remaining 98 was kept in perfect control, where a more undisciplined man would have crushed the phone or set up a heavy tone full of threats in response of the insult.

"I see. I assume my associate is unable to talk for herself."

"Talk, walk...HEY HARLEY! What rhymes on 'walk'?"

"I think chalk, Mr J! And and-" A harsh encounter between one's fist and another's face was audible enough to be heard through the phoneline.

"Chalk doesn't make sense, you wench! Hey, that does rhyme! Thanks sugarcakes!" A soft mumble that tried to be a sentence like 'No problem puddin' came as an apparent reply. "Now, where were we again Fat Albert?"

"You were boring me with a conversation that is going nowhere. And I can already guess the ending which is you telling me in a supposedly comedic manner how you stopped my efforts by subdueing and killing my agent."

"Killing? My dear fellow, who said anything about killing?"

Suddenly a loud crack of a gunshot echoed from the Kingpin's phone, but his features remained undisturbed and unimpressed.

"Now we can talk about killing Mrs Two-Face here. I'm really really sorry but Harvey took it personal when she showed up, stealing his gimmick, not to mention trying to kill him, of all people! And his happy coin than decided there were a dozen split personalities too many in this town. Alas, arrivederci Typhoid Mary, I will miss her cooking."

"And?"

"And? Little bit of a understated reaction from someone who just got told that his huge bum has been handed to him by the Clown Prince of Crime himself, wouldn't you agree? Especially when that Clown Prince happens to be me, with all the copyrights included."

"So I would have to assume that this was an warning for me to stay out of Gotham by killing the person I sent to remove your hindering presence?"

A silence came from the other end of he line, indictating that the person on the other line stopped talking. But that endured only shortly before a spine-shivering laughter came through.

"Hahahahaha, well sort of. And I was going to make amusing insinuations about gathering the gang, hijacking ourselves a schoolbus full of screaming kids and see how long they last while on our roadtrip to the Big Apple and visit you in person, tubby."

"Is that a threat or a joke?"

"I think I'm going for both here, Chunk. Unless you want to make it a date aswell. I warn you, I'm not paying for dinner."

"Than it is settled." And before the person could respond with a witty, in his own deluded opinion, reponse, the Kingpin lowered the phone and disconnected the call.

And than like nothing happend, the crimelord reached for several documents that had detailed reports on the recent destruction of property by the actions of Frank Castle, along with the year incomes and losses and worked through the paperwork for nearly an hour. Than the Kingpin glanced up, his face resembling a man who just forgotten a trivial matter. Followed by the slight annoyance of needing to solve that problem, and than lowered the papers while taking the phone again. He dialed a specific number, and waited for the other end to answer. Than the click came.

"Yeah, hello?"

"50,000 for a contract in Gotham City. No time or damage limit. Are you interested?"

"...Mr Fisk, you sure know how to brighten a honest killer's day."

Than the line disconnected once more. The Kingpin turned back to his papers, and began to think about the problem of the increasing expenses in gaining the control over Chinatown while countering the Hand's resistance, and deciding wether sending in a squad of expendable gunmen or a expendable mercenary like the Rhino would be the most cost-effective measure in dealing with those fanatic ninjas.


End file.
